


what a terror love is

by sugaplumvisions



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Cock Rings, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Love Confessions, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Tender Sex, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions
Summary: “You are a beautiful man, Isaac,” Dracula says. There’s an intensity to his gaze that Isaac can barely handle when it’s on him, feeling pinned like an insect on one of Dracula’s entomology corkboards. He wonders, sometimes, if Dracula would leave him pinned like this so he could study him in life, and even in death. He wonders, sometimes, if he’d mind.
Relationships: Dracula/Isaac Laforeze
Comments: 12
Kudos: 65





	what a terror love is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CT_Tup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CT_Tup/gifts).

> So this is a Lisa Lives AU, because I can see Dracula as much more open to love while she's alive. 
> 
> But she doesn't really show up, so mostly this is just Isaac getting fucked till he cries. ;) Love you, Dee!

“Isaac,” the voice comes through the portal, deep and rich. His master’s voice. 

“Master?” Isaac responds, surprised. 

“Isaac,” Dracula says. “I have need of you.” 

It’s not unheard of for Dracula to need his services, or even just his cool, analytical perspective. They’d become great friends while Dracula walked the earth at the behest of his wife. And they’d stayed in touch, even once he had gone home to her. 

“Come through the portal, Isaac,” Dracula says. 

Isaac rises, still draped in his bedclothes, and steps through the portal, falling on the other side as he steps through the mirror. 

“Isaac,” Dracula growls. 

“Master,” Isaac says, kneeling at his feet. “How would you make use of me?” 

Dracula reaches down from his impossible height and takes Isaac’s hand, pulling him up to stand beside him. 

“First, I would have you stand beside me as equal,” Dracula says. “And then, I would have you choose what you’d have of me.” 

“Choose?” Isaac asks. 

“You are a beautiful man, Isaac,” Dracula says. There’s an intensity to his gaze that Isaac can barely handle when it’s on him, feeling pinned like an insect on one of Dracula’s entomology corkboards. He wonders, sometimes, if Dracula would leave him pinned like this so he could study him in life, and even in death. He wonders, sometimes, if he’d mind. 

What a terror love is. Making Isaac’s heart weak, if only to this one man. He should focus on his forging, focus on keeping his head clear. But Dracula’s gaze does not relent. “I would have you be mine, if I could,” Dracula continues. 

“Master, I am yours, body and soul,” Isaac says. It’s true, and part of him hates that it is. The other half sings with the devotion of it. 

“Then what would you have of this?” Dracula says. He stoops and presses a chaste kiss to Isaac’s lips. 

Isaac’s cheeks flame. “Master. Have you not a wife?” 

“Of course I do,” Dracula says. “Did you think I had forgotten her?” 

“Of course not, Master,” Isaac says, and ducks his head in shame. 

“We are not bound to the laws of this land,” Dracula says. “We are not bound to their god’s rules. And if I were to love more than one…then my wife would not forgive me until I caught him.” 

“Are you catching me, my lord?” Isaac says, a small smile on his lips, barely daring to believe the words coming out of Dracula’s mouth. 

“Would you let yourself be caught?” Dracula’s gaze intensifies, and Isaac finds himself needing to throw himself at Dracula’s feet, throw himself on Dracula’s mercy. 

“As I said, my lord,” Isaac repeats. “I am yours, body and soul.” 

“Then you would have me?” Dracula says. 

Isaac takes Dracula’s hand and presses a kiss to the knuckles. 

“I would, Master, in any way you would have me.” 

Dracula leans down and kisses Isaac again, less chastely this time, fangs grazing his lower lip. He frees the barest trickle of blood, and darts his tongue out to lick it up. Dracula groans, low and deep in his throat. 

“Master, would you feed?” Isaac asks. 

“I would,” Dracula says. “But later. I would first have you strip.” 

Isaac takes a step back and pulls his loose-fitting bed shirt over his head and lets it fall to the ground. He shucks his pants and small-clothes off in one fluid motion, stepping out of them as they fall to the floor. He stands bare in front of a fully-clothed Dracula. 

“Beautiful,” Dracula murmurs as he cups Isaac’s face in his hands. He looks him up and down, and Isaac finds his cock hardening under Dracula’s gaze. His hands go to hide it from Dracula’s scorching eyes, but Dracula catches his hands. 

“Isaac, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” He takes in every inch of Isaac hungrily. 

Isaac’s cheeks darken almost imperceptibly. “My lord, I am glad you are pleased.” 

“More than pleased, my Isaac. But I must ask, do you trust me?” 

“With all my heart, my lord.” 

“I would truss you up in silken scarves, I would feed from you, I would put you in a cock ring and make you beg for your release.” 

Isaac’s pupils blow out huge and dark. 

“I would have that, my lord, and whatever else you’d have of me.” 

Dracula growls and pushes Isaac down on the bed. 

“So beautiful, so willing to give yourself to me. How long have you dreamed of this, Isaac?” 

“Since I met you, my lord.” 

“And I you,” Dracula says, crawling up over Isaac’s prone body to give him a blistering kiss, darting his tongue between Isaac’s lips as he gladly let them go slack and open. Dracula groans into Isaac’s lips. 

“My lord,” Isaac whispers. 

Dracula presses a kiss to Isaac’s forehead, then reaches down under the bed. 

“I would have you wear this,” he says, holding up a metal cock ring. 

“Please, my lord,” he says. 

Dracula reaches down and runs his long fingers over Isaac’s cock, stroking gently as Isaac hardens in his hand. 

“Beautiful,” Dracula says, pressing their foreheads together, looking down at Isaac’s cock as he strokes it. 

“My lord,” Isaac gasps, entire body feeling like a tight line of electricity under Dracula’s attentions. 

“My love,” Dracula says, kissing him deeply as he snaps the metal ring into place around Isaac’s cock. 

Isaac groans and bucks up into Dracula’s touch as he goes back to gently stroking his cock. 

“Be still,” Dracula says. 

“Yes, Master.” Isaac lies back and tries to keep from bucking hips up into Dracula’s cool touch. 

“Stay still, Isaac,” Dracula says, climbing off the bed to rummage beneath it further. 

“Yes, Master,” he breathes out, fighting even harder not to surge up to chase his touch. He manages to stay still, trying with all his might and practiced restraint to do so. It’s just so easy for all that restraint to peel away when it comes to Dracula. 

Dracula pulls out four silk scarves from underneath the bed. 

“Spread your arms and legs as wide as you can,” he says. 

Isaac obeys in an instant, going spread-eagle, ready and waiting, putting himself at Dracula’s mercy. 

Dracula ties the scarves firmly around each wrist, each ankle, and ties the scarves to each bedpost. 

“Struggle,” he says. Isaac pulls at the ropes but finds himself unable to move. 

“Good,” Dracula says. “My love, if you need me to stop, simply say so.” 

“I will not need to,” Isaac says. “I would let you do anything you asked.” 

Dracula groans. “Isaac, you have no idea what I would ask of you.” 

“Nor do I need to,” Isaac says. “If it is you, I would offer up anything.” 

Then Dracula is there again with a bruising kiss, pressing hard against his lips, kissing down his neck. He sucks gently, careful to avoid using his fangs, leaving blossoming marks against the rich darkness of Isaac’s skin. 

“Beautiful,” Dracula says as he sits back and admires his handiwork. “You look incredible at my mercy.” 

“Only your mercy, my lord,” Isaac gasps out as Dracula returns to him, scrapes his fangs over his skin. “Please,” Isaac says, trying to keep his voice steady. “If you would, feed from me.” 

“All in due time, Isaac,” Dracula says. “I would have you be patient.” 

“Yes, Master.” Isaac bites his lip to keep from keening as Dracula kisses his way down his torso. He’s never in his life been touched with such tenderness as this. 

Dracula runs a cool finger over his bottom lip. “Don’t hold back, Isaac,” he says. “Let me hear you.” 

Isaac groans, then, as Dracula’s other hand goes down to circle around his hole, slick from oil he must have gotten along with the scarves. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” Dracula says. And Isaac thinks he wouldn’t mind the pain if it was Dracula, wouldn’t mind most anything if it was Dracula, but he will do as his master, his lover, his world orders. 

Then Dracula slips a long finger inside him, and Isaac’s entire world narrows to the strange sensation. It’s not unpleasurable, but so new, something he’d never dared to experiment with even in the long, hard nights where he’d taken himself in hand and spilled over his fingers, groaning, thinking of Dracula, only of Dracula.

“Fuck,” Isaac gasps out. 

“That would be the point, yes,” Dracula says. “You’re so tight, Isaac. You’ll need to relax for this.” And he pulls out his finger and suddenly there’s something warm and wet and wriggling delving against Isaac’s entrance. He wails as it circles his hole then delves inside, dipping just barely into him before pulling back as Dracula’s slicked hand wraps firmly around his cock and strokes. 

“Master, I’ll come,” he gasps out. 

“Not like this, you won’t,” Dracula says, tapping his cock ring with a long fingernail. “Not until I let you.” 

Isaac sobs as Dracula resumes his oral assault on his entrance, licking gently, letting his fangs scrape gently, so gently, over sensitive skin. 

“Good,” Dracula says, finally, after spending what felt like an eternity fucking Isaac with his tongue. “You’ve relaxed.” 

He slicks his fingers back up and pushes one inside him. 

“You’re so hot around my fingers, Isaac,” Dracula says. “I can only imagine what you’ll feel like around my cock.” 

“Please, Master,” Isaac gasps. 

“In due time,” Dracula says, slipping in another finger. Isaac’s body tenses for a moment but slowly relaxes as Dracula scissors his fingers, leaning down to dart his tongue around and in between them. Then he crooks his fingers just so, and Isaac surges up off the bed in shock and pleasure. 

“_Master,_” Isaac all but screams. He thinks that under any circumstances but these, he would have come in an instant. 

“Does that feel good?” Dracula asks. 

“Yes, yes, _yes,_” Isaac repeats. “Please, more of that.” 

And it’s a testament to how far he’s gone that he’s asking anything of Dracula, and a testament to Dracula’s love for him that he complies, rubbing firmly over his prostate with two fingers, then three. Isaac keens, sobs, thrashes against the bed in the face of the onslaught. 

“Are you ready for me?” Dracula asks after three fingers scissor him wide open. 

“_Please.” _

Dracula crawls back up the bed and claims Isaac’s mouth again with a bruising, scorching kiss. Isaac lets himself be claimed, wishes he could be marked forever by this man who, against all odds, has invited him into his bed, into his heart. 

Dracula removes his fingers and unbuttons his pants, and Isaac has only a moment to mourn the loss of the fingers before Dracula lines up his cock with Isaac’s needy hole and pushes in. 

He feels the head slot inside him with a pop, and as Dracula slowly, tenderly pushes in—”Tell me if it hurts, darling,” he mutters as he works his hips slowly forward—Isaac sees no wonder that men would fight and die for Dracula and his terrible, terrible love. 

Dracula sheathes himself in Isaac’s body with a final, desperate push, and Isaac has never felt so _full_ in a place he never even knew he was empty. 

Isaac groans and grinds his hips up to meet Dracula’s, his body begging for friction on his hard and desperate cock. 

“Master,” he gasps, tears in his eyes. “Please.” 

And when he speaks it’s like touching a live wire, because Dracula begins to fuck into him at a pace impossible of a mortal man. 

“Isaac, my beloved,” Dracula says, kissing his forehead and wiping away his tears. “You’re doing so well.” 

“Please, my lord, please,” Isaac says, devolving to senseless babbling. All these years of training his body at odds with this intensity, with the desperation of finally letting his flesh become one with his only love’s—but did it really matter, to lose his impassivity, if his master would ask it of him? 

“In due time, Isaac, my love,” Dracula murmurs into the smooth skin of his scalp. He picks up his pace, hitting Isaac’s prostate with every thrust, until he thinks that he’ll come almost despite himself, despite the ring. 

“Would you let me feed?” Dracula asks softly. 

“Anything,” Isaac groans. 

Dracula ghosts his fangs along Isaac’s neck, questing for the artery. He finds it with speed, and at the same time he bites down, slips off Isaac’s cock ring. 

He fucks him through the feeding, hitting his prostate with preternatural accuracy as he licks and sucks at the puncture wounds he’d made. 

“Master,” Isaac whispers like a prayer. “_Master._” There’s no feeling that can compare to Dracula pounding inside him and the absolute bliss of being fed upon. He’s let Dracula feed from him before and ever since has craved the intimacy, the sensual thrill, the knowledge that he’s doing something for his master that he cannot do for himself. 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by his master’s voice. 

“Come for me, Isaac,” Dracula says, sucking harder, fucking faster. Isaac keens and spills untouched between the two of them, over his stomach and Dracula’s shirt. 

“Good,” Dracula says, feeling Isaac pulse around his cock, and growls low in his throat as he comes inside Isaac’s tight heat. “So good for me,” he whispers before his voice is lost in the throaty groans of orgasm. 

Dracula slumps forward for a moment, sated in more ways than one, then picks himself up and goes to untying the silk scarves on Isaac’s limbs. The knots have tightened where Isaac thrashed against them, but Dracula easily unpicks them with long fingernails. 

“Thank you, my lord,” Isaac says as Dracula unties him. 

“Thank _you, _Isaac,” Dracula says. “You have long been my friend, and I would long have had you be more than that.” 

“You only ever had to ask,” Isaac whispers, voice husky and hoarse from the noises he’d made while being fucked. 

“Perhaps I should have asked sooner.” Dracula unties the last of the knots, then leans down to kiss Isaac again. There’s no fire behind it this time, only fondness. Isaac lifts his head to meet him. 

“I would have you be mine,” Dracula says, “If you’d have me. There is room enough in this castle for you, and it has long been my will that you and my wife be closer friends.” 

“I will need but a trip to pack,” Isaac says. He shudders under Dracula’s gaze. 

“Later,” Dracula says. “All in due time. In the meantime, let us get you to the bath.” 

Isaac would protest if it were anyone but Dracula scooping him up into his arms, anyone but Dracula carrying him to the bathroom and running the bathwater nice and hot. But it was Dracula, so he almost enjoys the foreign feeling of being loved, treasured even. 

“Soak here,” Dracula says, “While I change the sheets. Then I will be in to join you shortly.” He pours out a few oil blends on the water that smell divine. “These should help with any soreness.” 

Isaac can do nothing but nod as he’s lowered down into the bath. He lets his eyes close for a moment, basking in the afterglow. Dracula presses one final kiss to his forehead before going into the other room to change the sheets on the large four-poster bed. Isaac groans, more quietly now than he had when Dracula was touching him, and sinks into the heat of the water. It soothes away any errant aches and pains. He’d expected it to hurt, after, but all he feels is a pleasant aching in his loins, a reminder that Dracula had been inside him. He lets his eyes slip half-lidded. 

It seems only a moment before Dracula is back, and perhaps it only was, his speed far greater than any mortal man’s. 

“I am back, my love,” Dracula says, and shucks off his clothes without ceremony, climbing into the bath next to Isaac. He gathers Isaac up into his lap and arranges him to lean back against him. “Lisa is overjoyed,” he says. “She brought you juice and bread, to replenish after being fed from.” 

“So she really is all right with this?” Isaac asks, mind all but shutting down from his earth-shattering orgasm and from the way Dracula’s hands stroke up and down his sides.

“I would do nothing if she was not,” Dracula says. “She’s going to love you, Isaac.” 

“Hmmm,” Isaac says happily, affirmatively, his mind somewhere far beyond words. 

“I would ask one more thing of you,” Dracula says. 

Isaac fights through the slurry that is his brain in order to speak. “Whatever you wish.” 

Dracula smiles, and leans down to kiss him. Isaac feels his face flush, and not from the heat of the bath.

“I love you, Isaac,” Dracula says.

“I love you,” Isaac says. The words on his lips taste like a prayer.

Dracula finally asks what he’s been waiting to say. “Stay the night?” 

“My lord,” Isaac says. “Of course.” 


End file.
